Brunch, Spiders, Poker and Fat Jokes: My Sunday

It amazes me how I can spend a Sunday. Today it was brunch with my wife and Lady R- former Mossad, ex-C.I.A. and a lover of nearly creatures great and small. She doesn't like earwigs (pincher bugs) I don't know what the hell they call them outside of the U.S. perhaps the very amusing and knowledgeable Ms Fits, could tell us? But more on earwigs later.

We had lunch and then we went spider hunting. Why the hell am I out spider hunting? That's not slang or code for anything. We were actually walking around, up and down alley ways and bushes, looking to catch spiders. I don't know when I became a seven year-old boy again. I think it happened after I co-taught a bug class for kids at an afterschool program. That's also the around the time that I started craving eat candy and junk food. Things I hadn't eaten in years. Did I catch some little kid disease that made me change? Did some kind of huge male regression take place. Maybe? I don't know. All I know is that I now like to catch spiders and bugs to feed to them, especially earwigs (pincher bugs). I don't like earwigs and I really don't like roaches. I step on roaches to protect the planet from their total domination. I do this free of charge. The earwigs I usually just feed to a bigger insect like a spider or a preying mantid (when I had those). But today it didn't seem right. Why do earwigs get cast as the villains? They have pincher claws sure, but they don't go after you. So I'm gonna go easy on these guys from now on. Sadly, after a day of catching spiders my friend and I totally nerd out and look them up on the internet. What the hell? When I was a teenager I would have teased the kids who like bugs and playing on the computer. Is it like fashion where everything goes in cycles and what was old becomes popular again? Is it like how they say your tastebuds change every seven years. Around seven pm I get a call from by friend Peter who invites me to play poker with some of his other friends and he's even going to bankroll me because I am really poor right now. Okay I don't want to touch the save for a house fund. But I'm not working. Here in the same day I go from brunching with the ladies, to playing with spiders, to drinking beer and playing poker. Am I a retard or a renaissance man? I really don't know. I can tell you that I did not fare very well in the poker game. Everybody at the poker game, myself included had all worked for this asshole boss. Now he's a big temperamental slob of a man. A former TV and movie actor turned executive producer/writer/dickhead. But the odd thing was that we spent the majority of the poker game talking about this guy and sharing nasty things we'd heard people say about him. It's a very bonding thing to have a common enemy or hated friend and we got so immersed in our group hatred of this man that we all made cruel jokes about him and theorized ways to upset this big, girthy, temperamental, bullying, bragging, beef jerky-loving, condescending, self-hating-infantile, talking megalomaniac turd of a human being. Wow, is he really that bad? Sometimes, yes. But doesn't it say something sad that some pretty funny, bright comedy writers got together to have a good time and shoot the breeze and play cards and we end up talking about this guy for 80 percent of the time? Just spewing sharp jabs and negativity. This guy must have been terribly teased and humiliated as a child and made to feel awful about himself to have become the kind of person he is today. It should be sad that this man is this way. Now he's grown up and gained some clout in his profession and reigns over people like a big teasing bully who wants to belittle those around him in order to make himself feel superior. But this just reminds him of being bullied and this makes him mad and causes him to lash out. It's the cycle of abuse. I thought about all this on the drive home from Pete's house. Then I think this guy is just an enormous earwig and if I don't want to get pinched I should just stay clear of him. I guess I was disappointed that he didn't get pity from us and that he churned up so much bitterness. I think it's fine for kids to play with bugs, but it's mean to say nasty things about someone.

Wait... No, he's a prick, he could make more of an effort not to aggravate people, take them for granted and then shit them into the toilet. I changed my mind. He's a selfish blob of angry fat that does the bare minimum to qualify as a human being. Nevermind all that thoughtful stuff I said before, he's a bloated, sub-human scrotum wart. I hope he writes a book. I'd write a lovely foreword.

The moral of this ramble is:

1) Don't let the fat earwig ruin your picnic.

2) Exposure to young kids can result in bug hunting and excessive candy consumption.

3) Fat Children who become Hollywood Big Shots will seek vengence.